


Keeping Tradition

by ArgentLives



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Episode Related, F/F, Fix-It, Fluff, Mistletoe, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:51:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgentLives/pseuds/ArgentLives
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iris smiles at her a little hesitantly, but there’s something in her eyes that Caitlin recognizes, a light that’s not just coming from the colorful Christmas ones blinking happily all around them. The hand on her shoulder doesn’t budge, but another one comes up to squeeze her other arm instead, and Caitlin’s breath catches in her throat as Iris takes another step closer.</p><p>“You know, Christmas is kind of my thing. And I really am a stickler for tradition, so…” Iris’s smile grows wider as she gestures to the mistletoe hanging directly over their heads again, but Caitlin doesn’t look up, because how and why would she ever want to look away when Iris is right in front of her looking so beautiful, when Iris wants to kiss her. Her! <em>God bless the holidays</em>, she thinks, a little smile of her own curling her lips. </p><p>[A little Snowest fix-it fic for the Caitjay mistletoe scene in 2x09 because this is highkey what I think should’ve happened instead]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keeping Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not Jay's biggest fan. Also: Caitlin Snow is a lesbian and it's a crime that we haven't seen her kiss any girls yet, especially when Iris West right there and beautiful and SINGLE. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“God dammit,” Caitlin mutters under her breath, letting out a huff as she rocks back on her heels, because no amount of reaching and struggling is going to make her any taller, even standing on her tippy-toes. “I hate you,” she feels necessary to add, glaring at the spot on the ceiling— _the perfect mistletoe spot—_ that she just can’t reach. 

“I can’t help you in the height department, unfortunately.” Iris’s voice draws her attention downward, and almost immediately Caitlin’s gaze softens. Iris looks radiant in the warm yellow glow of the living room, the lights from the Christmas tree reflecting prettily in her eyes. She’s wearing little jingle bell earrings, Caitlin can’t help but notice, with her hair pushed back behind her ears just enough to show them off properly. _God, she’s adorable._ “But I can help in another way, I think.”

Iris gives her one of those blinding, toothy smiles before laying a hand on her arm and moving to stand behind her, leaving Caitlin blinking stupidly at the air in front of her, completely at a loss as she feels Iris’s other hand come up to rest on her shoulder.

“What’re you—?” Caitlin starts to say, but Iris reaches over her shoulder and plucks the mistletoe out of her slackened grip without preamble. 

“Ready?” Iris asks, and she sounds so sure of herself that Caitlin nods even though still has no idea what she’s supposed to be ready for, and she feels a sudden pressure on her shoulders as Iris presses down on them and jumps, hoisting herself up. Without even having to think, Caitlin’s arms fly up to catch her, sliding easily under her legs to hold her up, and then Iris’s comfortable weight is pressed right up against her back. She’s so light, and Caitlin has the sudden urge to carry her over to the couch like this, not far away, and find out just what that weight might feel like if she were on top of her instead. Iris shifts a little, getting into better position as she reaches towards the ceiling with mistletoe in hand, and Caitlin feels her face heat up at the realization of exactly where that train of thought had been heading. 

The smooth skin of Iris’s thighs feels hot against her bare arms, and she struggles to repress a shiver that has absolutely nothing to do with being cold. The contact feels nice, and Iris feels nice, and it’s certainly not doing anything to calm the fact that she’s still probably blushing redder than Patty’s Christmas sweater. She’s torn between simultaneously really needing Iris to get down before she _does_ end up carrying her over to the couch, and never wanting her to move. 

“There!” Iris finally breathes, hopping off Caitlin’s back, and Caitlin immediately misses her warmth. She doesn’t remove her hand from her shoulder as Caitlin turns around to face her, though, and for that Caitlin is grateful, if a little curious. Iris points up to the ceiling, where the mistletoe is hanging in just the right spot over their heads, and suddenly Caitlin doesn’t hate it anymore, not at all, not even a little bit, no matter how long she’d been trying and failing to get it there before Iris had come to her rescue. “It’s perfect.”

“Yeah, it is,” Caitlin says, except she’s looking back at Iris when she says it, and the few seconds it takes for Iris to lower her gaze to meet hers feels more like a lifetime, her heart thudding nervously in her chest. She’s sure Iris must be able to hear it. She’s standing so _close_.

Iris smiles at her a little hesitantly, but there’s something in her eyes that Caitlin recognizes, a light that’s not just coming from the colorful Christmas ones blinking happily all around them. The hand on her shoulder doesn’t budge, but another one comes up to squeeze her other arm instead, and Caitlin’s breath catches in her throat as Iris takes another step closer.

“You know, Christmas is kind of my thing. And I really am a stickler for tradition, so…” Iris’s smile grows wider as she gestures to the mistletoe hanging directly over their heads again, but Caitlin doesn’t look up, because how and why would she ever want to look away when Iris is right in front of her looking so beautiful, when Iris wants to _kiss_ her. Her! _God bless the holidays_ , she thinks, a little smile of her own curling her lips. 

Cautiously, like she can’t believe it’s really happening, like if she tries to touch her Iris will disappear, or she won’t be real, or her fingers will go right through, Caitlin brings her hand up to cup Iris’s cheek. And it _stays_ there. Iris is solid and warm and smiling right at her, and Caitlin’s heart feels like it’s about to leap out of her chest, and her own smile is so big her face is starting to hurt.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to break tradition on my account,” Caitlin says, brushing her thumb across Iris’s cheek, before she kisses her. Iris’s lips are soft and sweet against her own, and the sensation it sends tingling on her mouth and the sluggish warmth that it leaves throughout her body is even better than Grandma Esther’s famous egg nog. 

Iris’s arms slip lower and wrap around Caitlin’s waist to pull her closer, and all she can think in response to the distant clapping and wolf-whistles and shouts of  _‘fucking finally’_ that remind her that they are not, in fact, alone,is that she couldn’t care less what else she gets for Christmas this year, so long as she has this. 


End file.
